


Let me be your anchor one more time

by piqui



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, College AU, Frenemies, M/M, a tiny bit of angst and fluff, daishou and kuroo are in the same college, first year of uni, friends to enemies to lovers ig, its kinda short, kuroo has spasmophilia, kuroshou, takes place after High School, trigger warning : panic attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 11:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18520423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piqui/pseuds/piqui
Summary: Daishou and Kuroo get nostalgic after the latter has one of his panic attacks he hasn't had in years...





	Let me be your anchor one more time

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no it's another poorly written kuroshou fic... (but nobody was writing any so I did my own stuff haha?)

The ticking of a guy’s watch, the constant clicking of keyboards and now the irritating clicks of Kuroo’s ballpoint pen?

Blend the teacher’s monotonous speech in and you have the recipe to boring college classes. Daishou hates them. Especially the ones held in lecture halls. 

 

_Clickety, clickety, click_

 

Daishou can’t hold it anymore. Pushing himself away from the desk with his hands, he turns to his right (where Kuroo is slumped two seats away. He can’t blame his neighbor for having a watch, nor can he blame students for taking notes on their computers, so he’ll shift the blame to bedhead and his stupid pen. It’ll spice up this boring class) and adopts his most condescending attitude.

“That’s an awfully cute ballpoint pen you have here.” His smile is as smug as ever. “Would you mind if I made you eat it?”

When the only reactions he gets are judgmental looks from students he doesn’t know (and doesn’t care about), Daishou’s self-righteous face crumples in a concerned frown. Not only is Kuroo not responding to his provocation (which is, for starters, troubling), but also he isn’t taking notes. Kuroo always takes notes, no matter how uninteresting the class is. Daihsou is starting to recognize the signs: Kuroo doesn’t even bother to look up, his eyes are glassy and unfocused as his thumb nervously bounces on his pen. He’s rubbing his neck to the extent that it leaves red marks, and his nails dig in his flesh too…

 

Honestly, it’s been years and years since it last happened, and maybe his mind is playing tricks on him, maybe he’s just imagining things, but Daishou doesn’t feel like ignoring the dreadful voice in his head.

« Kuroo. » His voice is a loud whisper as he cranes his neck to see past the two pupils between them. 

And his apprehensions are confirmed when said boy flinches, biting his lip as he obviously struggles not to look in his direction. 

 

It brings back memories… Daishou remembers him doing that, when he had a fit. He focused really hard on something, anything, to keep his mind from giving in to panic. At first, any noise or movement was a nuisance, a distraction interfering with Tetsurou’s efforts of concentration thus leading to utter panic. But over time, Daishou had managed to become Tetsurou’s anchor, distracting him with his voice. They were just kids and none of them really understood what was going on, but Daishou got used to his friend’s panic attack, and Tetsurou got used to clinging to Daishou’s voice whenever anguish surged in his chest. The latter would not really say anything significant. He’d just ramble, mostly about him because that’s how he was, and eventually Testsurou’s breathing difficulties would quiet down. Those were the only times he made an effort to sound soothing enough. Tetsurou would usually call his voice reptilian, annoying and offensive; Daishou would answer with a pseudo-offended tone that ‘you’re just lying to yourself to cover up the fact that you find my voice absolutely charming’ and so on. Later, Tetsurou’s dad had informed them that the fits were from a panic disorder called spasmophilia. They had both nodded, not understanding one bit of what it meant.

His fits had lessened gradually as they grew up, until they had broken off all ties and Kuroo’s mental health was the least of Daishou’s worries (or so he claimed).

 

Kuroo is still stubbornly ignoring his calls and though he really is trying not to care, Daishou can’t help but let his eyes wander to his right, where he can catch sight of that stupid cat’s hands shaking while his chest heaves more and more quickly. He looks away, still ever persisting in pretending he forgot all about it even though he remembers it all too well. Who is he fooling? Not even himself. He remembers exactly how it starts, shaky breath, shaky hands, chest rising up and down increasingly; and he remembers exactly what he used to do, hold his hands, speak some meaningless words (or were they meaningful… He did once tell Tetsurou about his weird confusing feelings towards him and then assumed the boy was too drowned into panic to remember when they never mentioned it afterwards…) and soothe that poisonous anguish. 

Daishou can’t help it. Not without a roll of the eyes (he’s not sure if it’s meant for Kuroo or for himself), he stands up and wends his way, as best as one can in a crowded lecture hall, to the boy.

“Can you stand?” The whisper makes Kuroo shudder, trembling even more. Daishou knows he’s not going to answer so when the lights go out for the teacher to project a film, he takes it as an opportunity to yank his ~~friend~~ enemy up on his feet under some confused gazes. He’s not being pushy, he’s just saving time, he tells himself. 

Kuroo is obviously taken aback but still lets himself be led out in a daze. When they reach the door, Daishou spares a glance to the teacher who has interrupted his lesson, watching the both of them with curious eyes. 

“I’m taking him to the nurse’s office.” Daishou announces before leaving.

He doesn’t take him to the nurse’s office. 

 

Instead, He heads for the facility’s tiny backyard (only few people knew about it, but he had his sources), where he settles, a hyperventilating Kuroo clinging to his arms.

“Now,” he traps the boy’s gaze in his own “I need you to focus on my voice.” 

Kuroo is looking at him as if he is see-through, gaze unfocused, only the sound of heavy, painful breathing breaking the silence. As to help him get a grip on reality, Daishou slams his hands down on the boy’s shoulders, earning a jolt and a few blinks.

“Let me be you anchor one more time, okay?” If possible, his gaze gets more intense. Just once, Daishou puts their rivalry aside, forgetting about the long years that had passed, to become the little neighbor again, playmate and mostly comfort-mate. 

 

Maybe it’s his confidence crumbling into pieces when no signs of relief seem to appear on Kuroo, or maybe he’s just feeling nostalgic, but when Daishou’s arms wrap around the hyperventilating mess of a person the brunette is, it’s too late to reconsider his move. Before he knows it, he’s holding Kuroo in his arms, squeezing so that there’s not a single millimeter separating them. He’d seen someone do it to prevent a panic attack. The boy grasps for air, his lungs pushing against Daishou’s who rubs his back gently with a warm hand, soft ‘shh’s escaping his lips.

“Hey, it’s okay. Listen to my voice. Can you feel my lungs rise up and down?” as to emphasize his words, he takes a long, deep breath and talks as slowly as he can “I can feel yours. It’s unusually fast. Here’s what you’re going to do… You’re going to follow the rhythm of my breathing, okay?” Kuroo’s hands come griping at his shirt, where they settle into tense fists in his back. Somehow it incites him to go on. “That’s right, you’re going to mirror my breathing, up…. Down… Up… and down. Slowly…” 

 

Daishou lets time flow by, feeling Kuroo’s lungs progressively deescalate, his fingers wandering at the nape of his neck where they find their way into messy black curls. He feels every part of the boy’s body burning against his, weak shuddery breaths tickling in the crook of his neck and above all, he can smell that familiar scent he had never really got out of his mind.

 

He’s not sure if it’s been an hour, a minute or even just a second, and he has no idea why or when he has started rambling on about old childhood memories, shared or not, but what matters is that it seems to appease Kuroo. Soon, their chests synchronize, the latter’s grip loosens, heavy breathes replaced with soft hiccups. He sighs and they silently agree on staying like that for a few more minutes (or maybe they’re both too embarrassed to look each other in the eye).

 

When Daishou pulls away ever so slightly, his hands slip away from Kuroo’s hair only to find refuge on both sides of his pale face. He sees his own thumbs skimming the tear-wet face before he can really think about what he’s doing. It has to be ridiculous, really, two sworn enemies huddled together, smaller boy cupping taller boy’s face, Daishou is fully aware of it, yet he gives no fucks. His thumbs gently wipe away the tears as an excuse to linger a little longer on that smooth skin. Kuroo isn’t complaining anyway.  
The latter is the one who breaks the silence. “Thanks…” his voice cracks. “I uh… Sor-“

“Don’t.” Daishou shuts him up with an index on the boy’s lips. “We’ve been through this way too many times already. And even though it was a long time ago, the rules haven’t changed so please don’t apologize.”

 

\---

 

Kuroo shifts in his bed when the buzz of his phone wakes him up from his nap.

 

**From: Kenma  
are you ok? **

 

He squints. 

 

**To: Kenma  
I see news travels fast**

**From: Kenma  
Daishou messaged me**

**To: Kenma**  
Well that’s a first….  
Idk if I should be surprised or not 

**From: Kenma  
whatevr .are you ok yes or no?**

**To: Kenma**  
Probably :)  
I went back to the dorm after my attack and u woke me up from my nap 

**From: Kenma  
Idc that wasn’t the question **

 

A knock on the door makes him drop his phone in a jolt. A groan escapes his lips as he stretches and considers not answering until the knocking starts again.

 

Kuroo isn’t sure if he was expecting Daishou to be leaning against his doorframe but he isn’t surprised. Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, he yawns, waiting for the boy to start talking. He’s too sleepy to say anything eloquent anyway.

“Wow. You look worse than this morning.”

Of course Daishou Suguru was going to say something nice. Kuroo should be used to this. “Thanks.”

“I thought your hair had reached the pinnacle of ugliness but I guess I was wrong.”

“It’s always a pleasure to talk to you.” He rolls his eyes. The only thing keeping him from slamming the door to Daishou’s face was the past event ~~and maybe his good looks.~~ “So did you come here to criticize my appearance? If you’re done, you can go now.”

 

As expected, the boy ignores him and bypasses him to sit on the edge of his messy bed. He scans the room with reptilian eyes and stops on Kuroo’s favorite mug, old and chipped with a faded Gengar on it. His lips curl into a smirk. “Aw, you still have that old mug I gave you. You’re sweet!” His tone is on full offense while Kuroo’s clenched jaw is on full defense. 

“Maybe so. So what did you come here for?” He sits on the bed with a reasonable distance between them.

Daishou’s fingers come brushing over Kuroo’s arm for a split second. “Come on, what fun is there taunting you when you don’t bite back, you vulnerable disheveled kitty pancake.”

“Vulnerable… You’re one to speak when you came all this way only to see if I’m okay and disguised it by pretending you’re only here to annoy me.” He sticks his tongue out.

 

There’s a flicker in Daishou’s eyes, who freezes for less than half a second.

“So I was right.” Kuroo grins triumphantly. 

A few seconds of staring each other out goes by before Daishou sighs, dropping his chin on the palm of his hand. His eyes are cryptic as they wander in Kuroo’s own, looking for something that the latter isn’t sure about. It’s a sight Kuroo isn’t used to see anymore. Daishou without his self-satisfied grin, Daishou with smooth, pure features, serious for once, not distorted with sarcasm and venom. He almost looks appealing… 

Said boy’s lips part “I hate you.” But there’s no real feeling in his words, and Kuroo is too captivated in his contemplation to care.

Someone has to break the taboo, somehow, and the silence is becoming oppressive so Kuroo gets started. “Thanks for this morning…” 

He’s answered with a meditative nod. “Have you had them back for a while? The panic attacks, I mean.”

“Nope. First time in a while. Maybe you’re the one who triggers them!” He’s aware he probably just sounds stupid, covering his anxiety with lame jokes, but he can’t help it. He finds it suddenly hard to hold his ~~friend~~ enemy’s stare and decides to look at his jittery fingers instead.

 

“Kuroo, is something the matter? Do you have something you want to talk about?”

“What? No! I’m okay, I really am, it’s just… You know… I don’t know… “He lets out a ‘bleh’ as he flops down on the mattress. It’s easier to talk to a ceiling than to your sworn enemy, once a best friend. He really didn’t have any problems. Maybe it was all this college stuff, and the lack of sleep. It was all pretty new to him and he had to adapt to this new life.

 

“Tetsu…”

 

It’s almost inaudible, desperate, but it makes Kuroo’s blood freeze. He hasn’t heard this nickname in years. Letting out a soft chuckle, he turns to the boy. “Is someone feeling nostalgic today?”

“I might as well ask you the same thing.” Daishou lies on his side, head resting on his fist as he seemingly refuses to let go of Kuroo’s gaze.

“You haven’t changed one bit… You always had that perfectly gelled side parted hair. That and those hideous short pants your parents made you wear? You looked like baby Hitler or something!”

“I’ll take that as a yes. And you weren’t any better; with you stupid hair and tired face, my parents thought I was hanging out with a homeless kid.”

“It’s called fashion, baby!” Kuroo does a lame fingergun before reaching out for Daishou’s hair to ruffle it. “There, you should try it!”

 

It doesn’t seem to please Mr. snake head who scrunches up his nose in distaste. “Hey, do you know how much time I spend styling it every morning? Stop that.” If it doesn’t make Kuroo stop at all, it makes his laughter deepen even more.

“Now we both look like disheveled pancakes!”

“Fucking superb,” it was purely sarcastic “now it just reminds me of that time you dyed my hair brown with MUD.” 

“Oh yeah, you looked awesome! Pissed, but awesome.” 

(No Daishou was not struggling to fight back a smile)They gaze out the window for a couple of minutes, probably daydreaming of being kids again. 

 

“Everything is so much easier when you’re a kid…” Kuroo mumbles.

“You’re the last person I want to hear that from. Everything was so NOT easy with you as a kid. You always managed to get both you AND me into a fucking fine mess. We’d end up getting scolded or grounded because of you. That and your spasmophilia? Not easy.”

“Hmm I guess spasmophilia does suck… But you were always here… It helped. It still helps.” The setting sun left golden trails of light on their skin, casting yellow spots on the white sheets. “I remember that time you were trying to help me calm down by talking about how confused and flustered I made you feel.” A soft laugh.

 

The sound of choking fills the room, fueling Kuroo’s amusement. Daishou’s eyes widen. “I thought you weren’t paying attention that time?!”

“I always pay attention.”

“But you were choking on your lungs with panic?!”

“And you decided it was the best moment to confess.” He laughs harder.

“We never talked about it afterwards so I assumed you hadn’t- I mean- geh!” 

 

God, finally, once in his life, Kuroo can witness his sworn enemy being a stuttering mess. He enjoys every second of it. It’s nice being able to talk to his childhood friend without acting like he hates him. It leaves a peaceful warmth in his chest. With a yawn, ‘disheveled kitty pancake’ slumps even deeper in his sheets, heavy eyelids. He really needs to catch up on his sleep. “You know you made me feel some ways too.” His voice is drowsy when he adds “still do…”

 

It’s comfortable, the sound of Suguru’s hums lulls him to sleep and for the first time in a while, he feels like he won’t have trouble falling into Morpheus’ arms. With shut eyes, he hears the ruffling of the bed sheets, feeling a warm presence moving closer to him.

 

Kuroo falls asleep with a sense of safety, light warmth bubbling up his chest when he feels a warm pressure on his lips, breath tickling his neck. He smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ! Once again, english is not my main langage so I'd appreciate if you could tell me when you see a mistake? Thankies :)
> 
> I uh... Love comments wink wink (positive or negative, as long as it's constructive)


End file.
